The Golden Girl of Hogwarts
by Luna Bass
Summary: Aurelia, the adopted daughter of James Potter, is a magical prodigy bored with normal Hogwarts classes. There is nothing new to learn, nothing to do, and life is ultimately dull for her and her powerful wand. But a dread has come upon the population; could the rumors be true that Voldemort is back? Aurelia might soon no longer have need of boredom.
1. Chapter 1

_Hi! Thank you, reader, for reading this work. I will do my best to commemorate your effort with my very best writing._

_**Prologue**_

_ She raced down the alleyway, struggling to catch her breath but terrified to stop running. Whatever was chasing her must be some kind of animal – it didn't look human. A reptile? A monitor lizard? Abby had seen no scales, nor any tail, but it had to be a lizard. Nothing else could look give a look that cold and not have ice in their blood. _

_ Abby tripped, and toppled into a heap of garbage. She got up to start running again – only to realize that she was in a dead end. Footsteps sounded, and her knees started shaking like there was an earthquake. Abby slowly turned. _

_ There it was. Or was it he? Was it a man? No, no, that was no man – it couldn't be. No man could ooze that much anger, no man could have eyes so red. Abby gulped and clutched her crucifix to her chest, and started praying. _

_ The demon held something his hand; a long stick of wood, intricately carved. His arm was raised, and the last thing the woman saw was a flash of all-consuming green light as she begged for a place in Heaven._

_Eleven years previously..._

In the bright and early morning in Grimmauld Place, Mrs Potter stretched and yawned as she came down the stairs. Her husband was already flicking his wand around, setting the table for breakfast. Mandy smiled. She could get used to this, being married to a wizard. James looked up and saw her, and a grin broke across his face. "Eggs Benedict a la Ginevra, just like my mum used to make." James kissed her cheek.

Not a day could pass by without him thinking at least once, _she's so beautiful_. They'd been married for nearly a year, and dating for five years before that, and still James Potter marveled at it. Strawberry blond hair, coupled with a perfect complexion, and the softest, warmest brown eyes. James knew well he was a lucky man.

A shrieking, a bawling, a high-pitched row sounded inwards from the doorstep. "Merlin's beard! Is that a banshee?" It didn't sound threatening, so the couple abandoned their breakfast and went to investigate. Mandy opened the door cautiously. They'd only been living in James's childhood home for about a month, and she still wasn't used to the manner in which it was hidden from the rest of the world.

On the step sat a basket, and in the basket was a bundle of white linen. On top of the bundle was a folded parchment note, and in the bundle was a baby. James and Mandy shared a look, and brought the child in.

The little girl screamed and bawled, doing her very best to make it clear how _hungry _she was. Mandy hastily fetched some milk out of the cabinet (which somehow kept everything fresh), and poured it into a bottle her husband hand conjured so that the infant could suckle. James broke the wax seal on the note and read:

_Her name is Aurelia. Please take good care of her; make sure she gets an education, raise her like your own daughter. I leave her in your care._

The note was written with a quill, in a woman's handwriting. James and Mandy looked at the now sleeping baby girl, and smiled. "Aurelia – doesn't that mean golden?" Mandy asked.

"How should I know? Anyway, I'm pretty sure from the parchment that she's a witch." James paused, as the husband and wife shared another look. They felt a strange kinship with the child already. Odd. "I suppose it's our responsibility to take her in. Dad will get his first grandchild, at any rate."

And so Aurelia Potter came to live with James Potter, son of Harry James Potter, and his Muggle wife, Mandy. She would live happily, and become big sister to two other children, and have her impatience grow by the day till she could go to Hogwarts. There she would make few friends, but learn so much, and as the time passed on, so mind-bogglingly little. This is the tale of Aurelia, the Golden Girl of the Wizarding World.

_Tom threw himself on the bank of Thames, drawing heaving, shuddering breaths. The water was so cold it made his new skin sear itself with pain, but he stuck a foot in anyway. He needed the pain to clear his mind. Much seemed out of order, and he needed to take it all in._

_ Tom finally drew the courage to look at his reflection in the water. He was young. Strange – he thought he would look older, or at least not so callow. Oh well. It was probably better – fewer people might recognize him, and he seemed to be a grown man. _

_ "Oi! You! This is my spot – get out!" A flash of green light, and the homeless Muggle was no longer a problem. He grasped the yew rod in his hand. At least he still had his wand. No clothes though, he noticed. He ought to fix that soon. But first - _

_ Tom felt his forehead. No ache. The brat was dead, maybe even of old age. The wizard stifled a laugh. There was nothing more to stand in his way. Prophecies be damned! He would start over. This time he would be feared more than ever before. No Chosen One, no Boy-Who-Lived, no fairy tale ending this time. Lord Voldemort felt triumph over his enemy in having outlived him. That was the only real victory, in the end: living longer than your enemies. Where were Britain's precious heroes now?_

_Meanwhile, in Diagon Alley_

"Lord, is there any wand in here that thinks you worth choosing?!" Ollivander had grown impatient in his old age. "You're more problematic that your grandfather. And it seems I'm doomed to live through to your grandchildren, too. I hope then I can die, and leave this whole business to my grandson." Ollivander was nearly two hundred years old, and could think of nothing but how old he was. The ancient wandmaker leaned heavily on his cane. "Try this one. Mahogany and dragon heartstring, nine inches, stiff but pliable where needed."

Aurelia waved the wand round, bored and frustrated by now. She had waited years and years to have a wand of her own, and it was taking forever. Ollivander handed her another one, this one made of red heartwood and unicorn hair. Nothing.

"Eeeh, let me take a look at your measurements again." Ollivander took a look at the clipboard with his big old glasses. "Hmm. It's a risk, but maybe, just maybe..."

"What is it?" Dad asked.

"In my youth, I used to experiment with wandmaking, back when I was trying to find the perfect kind of wand for wizards to use. There's one that might just suit your daughter, but it's a little unusual. I'll be in the back." Ollivander disappeared into the backroom, and after nearly half an hour came back with a dusty old wand box. His shaking hands set it down on the table, and he blew the dust of the lid as he opened it. He handed Aurelia the wand. The girl's curious malachite eyes stared at the object like she had never seen a wand before.

"Ebony, nine and a half inches, with a combined core of a dragon heartstring and half a phoenix feather. Completely adamant, and it may be somewhat – er – explosive. Go on, wave." Red sparks shot out the tip, and Aurelia grasped it in a firm hand. This wand was meant to be hers, had always been hers, and would accept no other as its master while she still lived; she could feel it. As was her custom, she pulled her curly onyx mane into one thick plait with three rubber bands as her father paid for her new wand. Aurelia held it all the while the family shopped for her books, staring at the runes carved on the side. Wild, sure; explosive, sure – but not with her. This was her wand. With it, she would do great things, she was sure of it.

"That's so cool," said her little brother, Bilius. "Can I hold it?"

"You'll be getting your own next year!" Aurelia protested as her little brother made a grab for her new wand. She held it high above his head. "It's mine!" she sang. "Wait'll you have one of your own, you beast!"

"Oh, stop it you two," said Mrs Potter, though she didn't really mean to bring an end to their play.

"Come on – we still have time to go to Fortesque's for ice cream." Dad pulled the three little children along, and Aurelia would forget about her wand, till she performed her first spell at Hogwarts.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hullo! Just so no one's offended if I don't respond to their PM's immediately, I just joined and I have to wait a few hours to reply. Just so you know. On with the story!_

_**Three Years Later**_

Magna aimlessly flicked her wand up and down in the formation of the Jelly-Legs Jinx while Professor Binns droned on and on and on – she glanced over to her right and was exasperated to find her best friend Aurelia lying in her chair, head laid back, blatantly snoring. Magna poked her with her wand and hissed, "Oi!" Aurelia jerked awake, gazing blearily about her. "Just because you always get O's no matter what doesn't mean you don't have to suffer through it just like the rest of us!"

Aurelia yawned. "I can't help it if this my naptime. Besides, he's not teaching me anything I didn't learn in my first year." The blond, distant cousin of Sirius Black rolled her eyes. By the time she turned thirteen, Aurelia Potter had found Hogwarts to be a disappointment. She'd memorized all the library books, and found there was nothing left to learn, nothing for the teachers to teach her. Some of the teachers she'd already surpassed. But Hogwarts wasn't the kind of school that allowed its students to skip a year or two ahead to find a challenge.

She'd tried out for Quidditch, and was ridiculously good at it; unfortunate, as mastering it might have given her an interesting pastime. Every club, every after-school activity had been explored, but she had always beaten her brother and sister at Gobstones, and there was none to match her wit at wizard's chess. Aurelia knew the Forbidden Forest like the back of her hand, and there was nothing to be had in Zonko's joke shop that she hadn't been able to make herself. Admittedly, her Weasley cousins were thinking of opening another Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Hogsmead, but she owned the patents on several of their merchandise already. While her friends and siblings were so excited about Quidditch matches and getting House points, Aurelia was in a constant state of boredom.

Aurelia thought back to when she was first Sorted. How excited she'd been! Her first time away from home for more than a couple days! The fascinating secrets she thought she'd find out about, the wonderful spells she thought she'd learn! Learn them she did – and what else? New friends, new people to meet, even a rival of her very own. Aurelia reminisced of her innocence:

_"__Potter, Aurelia!" Her heart pounding, Aurelia took the steps to the object that would decide her friends, her enemies, and her fate. The moment the hat was put upon her head, she heard its voice begin to speak._

Well, now, _said the voice. _This is interesting. A Potter, yet not a Potter. _Anger broiled in Aurelia's gut. Of course she was a Potter! Just because she was adopted didn't change the fact her parents were the Potters. _There is ambition here, no doubt about it. A Potter trait, but you're also cunning. Let's set aside Slytherin as a possibility. Your loyalty is only given if reciprocated; no Hufflepuff for you. Oh, dear.

What? _Aurelia thought._

You'll need friends with a lot of patience to put up with you; you're smart, you know it, and you're not particularly modest. But no Ravenclaw for you; you're no seeker of knowledge. Of challenges, maybe, but not knowledge. Which leaves one last thing: are you brave?

_Aurelia thought. Was she brave? Did she have courage? She imagined herself alone facing twenty Death Eaters, even though they no longer existed. Her family dead, and only Bilius alive and wounded at her feet. What would she do?_

I see, _the Sorting Hat said. Aurelia did nothing to prevent it sorting her; she'd hoped for Gryffindor, but she realized that there couldn't possibly be any other House to suit her. "SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat cried, and Aurelia accepted her fate. _

Aurelia smiled. Ah, yes, those were the good old days, thinking of nothing but what she'd do in school. Now she spent most of her time planning the World Tour she wanted to take as soon as she graduated. Maybe she'd find something interesting then.

Finally, the lecture was over. Nothing more than an assignment she could write up in her sleep, and Magna and Aurelia were free for break. Their Hufflepuff friend, Cameron, rushed out of the nearby Transfiguration classroom and whistled. "Your Great-Aunt Hermione's a militant old goose! She took away ten points from me just for passing a note!"

"Mm," said Aurelia. "Yeah, she is."

Magna rubbed her temples. Aurelia was a nice, polite and interested person if she tried, but she could be so self-absorbed at times. Her eyes were staring vacantly in front of her as they headed for the courtyard, like circles of green glass. Her brother Bill came running up behind them, calling out, "Relia! I got a letter from Mum and Dad!" Aurelia snapped out of her daze and smiled at her brother in third year. They even looked like brother and sister, in that vague way that they both had black hair and green eyes, and similar skinny forms. They had similar expressions and similar ways of walking, both coming from having grown up together.

But Aurelia was clearly different. While her family's looks were more natural, she looked – harder. The strangeness was imperceptible, but it was there. When she was thinking deep thoughts (which she didn't do often, these days – there was nothing to warrant it) she stood so still you might have thought she was a statue, made of many different stones. Malachite disks for eyes, onyx or maybe black garnet for hair, alabaster for skin. Not that she was a hard person by nature. In fact, Aurelia could be quite easygoing when she was in the mood. And yet she could so insufferable -

"Hey! Potter!"

But not as insufferable as _that _bloody know-it-all. Magna's lip curled into a snarl. Dennis Thatcher, a Ravenclaw prodigy in sixth year who seemed to find fourth-year Aurelia a threat to his position.

Aurelia yawned. "Hullo, Dennis." She wouldn't give him the dignity of being called by his last name; she used to love beating a boy two years ahead of her at everything, but now, like everything at Hogwarts, it had been reduced to nothing more than an idle game she sometimes played. She proceeded to banter with Dennis, not really hearing what he was saying.

"So! You admit you might have cheated on the quiz!"

"No. Why would I cheat? I'd just get the same answers."

"That's just the sort of thing a girl with a primitive, mud-grubbing _Muggle _for a mother would say!"

"How dare you insult my mum!" Bill had to be held back by Cameron. Cameron whispered in Bill's ear, "That's just what he wants. Let Relia handle it."

Aurelia casually flicked her wand, and Dennis was pulled high into the air by his heel in a perfect example of a _Levicorpus_. "Follow the example of the Gryffindor bullies, Dennis, and pick on someone who _can't _bully back, for your own health." She started walking towards the lake and beckoned to her friends, who soon followed. Bill paused, and spun Dennis around in the air before running off to join his sister and her friends.

_St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_

"That's twelve more attacks this week. I'm told the latest managed to write a note before he died. What did it say?" Auror Mathew Endsley paused, allowing the Healer in charge of the morgue to speak.

"We found in clenched in his hand, as you've probably heard; he didn't use a quill, so its rather hard to read. I have it here; make of it what you will. Frankly, it's causing some alarm amongst those who know, so we've tried to keep it under wraps." The Healer retrieved it from his breast pocket. Endsley took it, and tried to read it as best he could.

**HE IS COME AGAIN I DONT KNOW HOW HES SURVIVED BUT HES ALIVE. HARRY POTTER'S GONE SO NO HOPE. PREPARE! HES COME!**

"Voldemort," Endsley growled, crumpling the parchment in his hand. "Shush!" the Healer said. He was a frail old man, and looked as though he might have been there when Voldemort had first come back. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! While his Death Eaters were in power, his name was taboo, and whoever spoke it could get taken to Azkaban. If you say his name, you might summon him here now!"

Endsley shook his head. "Not likely. Mothers all over England tell their kids to behave or Voldemort will get them; likely as not the whole thing's useless to him now – if it is him. I sincerely hope it isn't, but the Minister has to know about this. I trust you to tell no one, until the Ministry thinks no one will panic."

The old man nodded. "My lips are sealed."

"Good." Endsley teleported straight to Rose Weasley's office to give his report.

_Hogwarts, the Slytherin Common Room_

"_And now a classic song by the Weird Sisters, sung by nephew and student of Celestina Warbeck, Morty Mayhem!_" Cheers sounded from the audience in the background. WWN (Wizarding Wireless Network) was on, but Aurelia wasn't listening. Lounging on one of the couches, she tossed a Gobstone up and down in the air, light glancing off its gold surface. _That's me, _thought Aurelia. _The Golden Girl of Hogwarts, the teacher's pet. I hope maybe my OWLs are worth the try. _On the Gobstone's fifteenth way up, Aurelia Transfigured it into an Itching Orb – one of her own inventions – and levitated it carefully into the pocket of young Bellatrix Malfoy. An Itching Orb looked just like a Remembrall, but it was always red and the holders always found that their hands got really, really itchy after trying as hard as they could to remember what they'd forgotten. She didn't notice now, but playing pranks on Trixie was always entertaining.

Suddenly the room was filled with a silence and static. Everyone turned toward the radio except for Aurelia, who had pulled out another Gobstone and was tossing and catching it. Magna frowned, and leaned over to change stations, but every single one was filled with the same white noise.

"Maybe it's broken," someone said. And then it crackled back to life, and what issued forth from it was one of the scariest things that some of them had ever heard.

"_Greetings, witches and wizards of Great Britain,_" it said. It was a horrible, cold voice that no human being could hear and not have some deep, basic part of them shudder. Aurelia sat up quietly. "_There may be some of you old enough to remember my voice, and for those of you who aren't – you have heard of me. Perhaps as a cautionary tale, perhaps in History of Magic, if you have attended Hogwarts -_" Some of the students looked at each other, expecting someone to know who this was.

Far up in the Headmistress's office, Ancient Professor McGonnagal, very close to retirement, sat straight up in terror, and thought perhaps she was having a nightmare. But the nightmare was very real.

"_But I live still. I am the Dark Lord Voldemort, and your precious Harry Potter is no more. Who will stand in the way of my taking over Britain now? No one. I have an army; you have no heroes and no hope. The Ministry of Magic has twenty-four hours to surrender, and if it doesn't broadcast within that time, you will have declared war. One day: will you fight and lose, or will you surrender and survive? That is your choice._" The broadcast cut off and went back to "Cauldron of Love." Magna wisely turned off the radio. Silence reigned in the room for a time, then the whispers began to start. Magna Black turned to her friend and found her frozen like a statue in her seat.

A smile slowly grew across Aurelia's face. No heroes, yes; no hope? Doubtful. It seemed that Aurelia Potter wouldn't be bored for a long while. Not with Tom Marvolo Riddle for a foe.

Twenty-four hours later, a war began.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry there was such a long time between chapters, to the people who did read this. This is my first published fanfiction, and usually stories like these play out in my mind like an animated TV show or movie, so don't be surprised if the chapters seem somewhat episodic, if not necessarily on time. That's all._

_**The Rescue**_

For the students attending Hogwarts, it was spring break – though some parents had already drawn their children out of school. The Potters were already thinking of bringing home Molly and Bilius. For everywhere, there were whispers – terrified whispers of what You-Know-Who was going to first. There were rumors that the dementors had been broken out of their banishment to Bulgaria – that the Death Eaters had stolen dragons from Gringotts – that Bellatrix Lestrange had been resurrected from the dead to be alongside her master – that Inferi were roaming the streets and it was safer now to Apparate or Floo than to go outside – that he was secretly already controlling their minds through Legilimency – that it was all a bluff, and he had no army – that he had Imperised Minister Weasley and the war was already lost.

But so far, he seemed to have done nothing, and the public was left simply uneasy. The Ministry chose to take action before he did: Aurors were being sent to the houses and manors of all his old followers – thoroughly searched and everything confiscated. Apparently the Dark Lord didn't like what it was they were doing.

"_I, Lord Voldemort, would wish to address the members of the Wizengamot._" Magical households all over Britain fell silent. This was yet another display of his newfound power to control the WWN, and it was disturbing, the idea he could speak to all of England. He was no longer just a villain in a fairy tale, but a terrifying danger that was as real as themselves. "_You may have noticed by now that something is missing. In each and every one of your homes, there is something special. You may have more than one, and I know they are very, very important to you. I am speaking of your children. I have them, and you might never get them back. But know this; every time you send a team of Aurors to one of the houses of my followers, one of your children dies. If you want them to live, stop searching for me, and Lord Voldemort will spare them. If you continue the searches – I hate to spill pure blood,but if you do not comply, then spill it I must. That is all."_

Somewhere, an alabaster hand came forward and turned off the radio. Finally. She'd been almost afraid the first broadcast was just a dangerous prank. Time to get to work.

_The Riddle House, Little Hangleton_

"Angelin, report."

"No news, my lord. They seem to be staying quiet." The Death Eaters were all made to stand while the Dark Lord sat at the head of the table in a great leather armchair. The lightless chandelier above clinked as a draft came through the room.

"And you, Morpheus?" He addressed the bulky wizard in suede robes.

"No reply yet from Malfoy, my lord. Everyone I have spoken to has given me evidence that he's gone over to the side of the Potters and the Ministry. I think, my lord -"

"Don't tell me what you think, Morpheus; every time you tell someone what you think, a bit of their gray matter dies. Demetria, have you found -"

"My lord!" A young, cinnamon-haired man burst into the room. His face was flushed and his chest heaved with panting.

"This had better be good, Harlequin, or you will know Death far better than I did."

The Death Eater stood up straight. "My lord, Cyrus and Moreaux spotted someone lurking around the old gardener's house. They shot a curse at Moreaux and missed; they're tracking the intruder now, my lord. Should I send the rest of the guard after them?"

The Dark Lord slowly rose. "No need. Send Chang and Fenward to help them; tell them to stun the intruder. I want him brought here for an interrogation."

_On The Mansion Grounds_

Charon Cyrus spat on the ground. "Damn! This one's like an eel. Not a very good aim, though." He nodded with grudging respect at the place where they'd last spotted the trespasser, a clump of virulently prosperous rhododendrons. "I tell you, Moreaux, I think this is some worthy quarry. Makes you all the more satisfied when you catch 'em."

"Really? Well, you better not be disappointed, Cyrus, when you find out you're not going to skin it and eat it." The oily, sarcastic voice of Darryl Chang came to the two other Death Eaters just as he and Fenward came onto the scene. "The Dark Lord wants the trespasser brought in for questioning. We were sent to help."

Cyrus curled his lip. "We can manage just fine, Chang; I need no one's help to bring this one in."

"Oh? Didn't you say that this one was like an eel? Surely you'll need all the help you can get."

"Oh, shut it, both of you. You sound like -" A curse flew past Fenward's head, cutting him off. "There he is! Catch him!"

The sound of rushed and hasty footsteps rushed past. "_Stupefy!_ Damn! 'E's Disillusioned; we're castin' blind." More curses sailed over the heads of the Death Eaters, none of them hitting them. "You'd think 'e'd 'ave 'ad the sense to bring along someone who _was_ a good shot. _Locomotor Mortis!_"

Something fell with a thump.

"You got him, Moreaux!" The four Death Eaters rushed forward, and going by feel, restrained the intruder's arms and planted them face down on the ground. "I don't know what you were expecting when you tried to get in here, mongrel, but you sure as hell weren't gonna succeed in what you were planning. Now let's see who you are!"

Chang tapped his wand on the intruder's head. There was the sound of an egg breaking, and the other three Death Eaters looked as though they'd been hit with a Confundus charm. "Well what do you know," Cyrus said, baring his teeth, "it's a girl!"

_Five Minutes Later, the Front Hall_

The girl in Muggle clothes was dragged between Fenward and Cyrus as the five of them came forward to face the Dark Lord. She hung limp, in the very picture of defeat and terror. Shakily, she raised her head just enough to see the hooded figure standing tall, and she gave a small gasp. Chang, the most humane of the four, at least as humane as any Death Eater can be, almost pitied her. The child seemed to have bitten off more than she could chew. That black hair of hers that fell in so many curls hung lank with cold sweat. Look at the kid, Chang thought, she's so pale. It would be a rather a pity if they had to kill her. She would make a nice, grateful pet if they spared her life.

"Is she disarmed?" Harlequin came striding forward. The young brat might be arrogant as a captain of the guard, but he was competent, there was no arguing about that.

"This is the wand she was using." Moreaux passed the walnut rod to Harlequin, who passed it to his lord. The Dark Lord examined the wand.

"Not particularly powerful. Exactly what were you hoping to achieve by attacking some of the guards? You're only a child, so you're clearly not with the Ministry. Why are you here and how did you know we were in this place?" The questions were addressed to the prisoner, but she did not answer.

After a moment, she turned her trembling head to face Chang, with her wide, frightened eyes looking straight at him.

"A-a-are th-there many m-more of you? Here?"

"Answer the Dark Lord's questions, brat!" She flinched. Something about her reminded Chang of his niece, but he told himself not be soft and made his face stony.

"I-I-I came to rescue the chil-children. I-I wanted to he-help someone."

"Yes? Indeed?_ And how did you know we were here?!_" The Dark Lord lowered his voice to a deadly hiss. The room seemed to darken and his followers seemed to shrink beneath their lord's fury.

_How had she known where they were situated? If a child could find them, then anyone could. Tom was quivering with rage at himself for having overlooked something; whatever it was, he would torture it out of this prisoner until he got what he wanted. _

_ Then Tom realized something. He had simply made a mistake. There was no reason to be so angry. He truly had gotten younger; he had forgotten that he could accept his mistakes. Once he found out what it was, he could remedy it and dispose of the girl. Tom relaxed._

The sudden change in atmosphere was unnerving. One moment he was a towering blaze of fury, the next, he was the epitome of calm reasonableness. "Little girl," he said in a voice like frozen honey, "I would rather I didn't have to use an Unforgivable curse to learn how you found us." Chang couldn't help but shiver. He had never heard him like this before, and it chilled him to the marrow of his bones.

"Oh, you won't." Head still hanging low, the girl straightened her back and stood on her own feet. She then smiled the coldest smile that Chang had ever seen, and he got the urge to run, as though he had walked into the trap of some higher being that planned to destroy him. What the hell was going on here?

She slipped her hand into her pocket, and when she brought out the jet-black wand inside, a dozen others were instantly pointed at her. The girl chuckled. "Oh, relax, I'm not going to hurt you." She raised the wand into the air. "_Somnius Maximus!_" All the inhabitants of the room knew instant oblivion. Even Voldemort himself fell to the ground in slumber. The girl quickly Disillusioned herself. They would wake up in a few hours, maybe only half an hour for their leader. She'd better get moving quickly.

She passed out of the hall, stepping as lightly as possible. The place was a maze, and she was on a tight schedule. A pair of Death Eaters rounded the corner, and she quickly flattened herself against the wall. They passed without noticing her presence, and she continued onward, grateful to whatever god had invented the Disillusionment charm.

Finally! There were two guards stationed at one door. There was clearly something important behind it, and if it wasn't the children, it could still be useful. Although, she would be very disappointed if Voldemort turned out to be the sort of person who trusted other people to guard his secrets.

She silently Stunned them both, and cast an Alohomora on the lock. Nothing happened. She sighed, and took out a bobby pin and an empty quill nib. In a few moments the door was open. The girl couldn't help but feel a little let down. Her opponent was supposed to have been a great wizard, and he already seemed to have a weakness.

Oh, well. If she succeeded, then would have shown up the most infamous Dark Lord of all time, and that would be something.

She stepped into the dark doorway, and whispered, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

There was a stirring sound, like several people standing up at once. A young, strong voice called out from the shadows. "Who's there?"

"Philip Weasley, is it? I've come to rescue all of you. The door's open; quick, we don't have much time."

"Some of us are chained; those of us who had wands had them taken from from them."

"Your wands can be replaced. _Diffindo Bondus._" There was a huge cracking sound as the shackles of several children split open. "Come on, we don't have very much time."

The children of the Wizengamot scrambled forward into the light; their faces were filthy, and it looked as though no one had brushed their hair in a while. They seemed well fed, though they had deep bags beneath their eyes, and the terror of being in captivity was still held in their fearful facial features.

"This way. Quietly." The mysterious witch led them through the halls. The children followed her without question. Philip kept his hands clenched, as though ready to fight with his fists. When they came to the front hall, some of the smaller children whimpered at the sight of the sleeping Death Eaters. A little girl started to cry; not wails and moans, but short, sniffling and fearful sobs.

"It's all right, honey." The invisible witch ruffled her fingers through the little one's hair. "You'll be back with your Mum and Dad before you know it. Now's not the time to cry, though, okay? Freedom's just a few steps away." The child gulped and nodded. "Now, try to step over them; they're sleeping, not Stunned."

The group carefully picked their way over the many unconscious souls on the tile floor. When there were no Death Eaters between them and the door, the children began to race outside, elated with their disimprisonment. The strange girl caught Philip Weasley by the arm. "You'll find a mound of teacups by the road just outside the village. They're Portkeys; they're not on a time limit, just grab any one of them and it'll take you straight to the Ministry. Make sure all the others get there as well."

"Aren't you coming with us?" The boy looked where he thought the young woman's head must be as though she was mad.

"No – there's some business I have to take care of here. I'm leaving separately, don't worry. Just do what I told you. Now go!" He ran as soon as she let go. From her tone, he could tell that if he lingered, a Stinging Hex would be his reward. As he ran to tell the others how to get home, Philip wondered just where he had heard that voice before.

She looked about her, and tore down a painting of some Riddle from times gone by. Taking out her wand, she carefully chose her words and a Gothic script as she carved words onto the wall:

_**It's Your Move Now, Voldemort. Ta, And Enjoy That Bruise.**_

She considered leaving her initials, but she thought it perhaps would be best if she remained anonymous for now. No time anyways; she glanced down at the stirring Dark Lord. Best leave now, before he woke. The girl swiftly exited. Outside, she picked up a garden hoe she'd cast a _Portus _Charm over in the rhododendrons. Moments later, she was outside the Leaky Cauldron. She broke the Disillusionment Charm and walked in with a smile on her face as though she had been doing nothing suspicious.

_Back at the Riddle House_

_Tom awoke with a pain in the back of his skull. Struggling, he sat up. He moaned and rubbed the back of his head. There seemed to be a bruise, as though he had fallen. What had – a Somnius. That girl – Damn it! Tom leapt to his feet. He was trembling all over with fury. How could he have been fooled by such a simple and obvious trick? And how had she known – how had she known where he could be found? HOW?!_

_ His eyes found the writing on the wall, and Tom almost exploded. The insolence – the mockery – he had been striking fear into the hearts of witches and wizards when her grandparents had been walking with training wheels! How could she have so little fear of him? Tom noticed that his followers were beginning to stir, and he slipped his hood on over his face._

_ Harlequin and Chang awoke to find their leader standing utterly still before the writing on the wall. When they realized what it said, they exchanged terrified glances. The Dark Lord might kill them all out of rage without a second thought. Both pondered the same thing; did they dare to leave?_

_ Out of nowhere, the Dark Lord began to laugh. It was high and screechy; cold, as everything about his voice was, and it was truly frightening, as this was the first time in decades that he had laughed with genuine mirth. Incredulous, disbelieving, and a not a little angry, but it was genuine mirth. "Ha! HA! Insolent little - ! At least she's got more spite than the Potter brat. But she won't be any threat to me in future. I'll remember be guarding against variables like her. A good story to tell, to keep careless Death Eaters on their toes." The way he turned his head to left implied Chang, and the poor man shrank as he was blasted into oblivion with a bright flash of green light. _

_At The Leaky Cauldron, Two Days Later_

**The Daily Prophet**

**Kidnapped Ministry Children Returned Safely to Parent's Arms: Minister Weasley's Son Speaks of Mysterious Rescuer, Possibly a Potter Cousin**

**A few days ago, the children children of Wizengamot members who were kidnapped by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Namedwere all deposited via Portkey just outside the Ministry office. The children were picked up by Aurors when Philip Weasley, aged twelve, took the lead and told one Auror, Derrick Welder, that he was the son of Minister of Magic Rose Weasley. When the parents of the children had identified them all, the Aurors continued the investigation.**

"**A few of the children spoke of an invisible woman who rescued them, but we weren't able to find anything else out, other than the fact that she must be incredibly powerful and intelligent to have taken out so many of You-Know-Who's followers," says Auror Mathew Endsley. Curious about their rescue, we requested, and received, an interview with Philip Weasley. Here is what he has to say about his escape from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named:**

"**I remember us being locked up in a room in a big old house...I couldn't tell you where it was, we were all blindfolded and Apparated there...The person who saved us was a girl, I think, not a grown-up but only a few years older than me. She kept herself Disillusioned the whole time, so I never saw her face...the whole time I kept wondering why her voice was so familiar, like I'd heard it somewhere before. I didn't realize it until much later, but I think it sounded kind of like my cousin, Aurelia Potter. Actually, it sounded a lot like her; impatient and clever, and nice to little kids."**

**Aurelia Potter is the adopted daughter of Harry Potter's eldest son, James Sirius Potter, and Philip Weasley's second cousin. To the right is a photograph of her with her family two years previously, when James Potter and his aunt, Hermione Weasley, published Weasley's and Harry Potter's co-authored autobiography after his death. But whether it was Weasley's cousin or someone who sounded like her, the young lady who rescued the children from the grasp of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a hero, and no mistake.**

Aurelia was taking a swig of butterbeer when she happened to read the headline, and quickly started spitting and coughing. She set aside her butterbeer and hastily wiped the paper clean with her sleeve. She read the article several times over.

In the photograph, the family stood together as a group on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place. Aurelia was in the back somewhat, looking bored and irritated, pulling her hair into a plait with three rubber bands; a futile attempt that Aurelia no longer tried as her hair grew longer and curlier and more stubborn. It would take a hundred rubber bands to keep it in a plait; besides, the rampant curls suited her somewhat and offset a face that might otherwise look stiff and inhuman.

"Damn," Aurelia said, staring at herself in the paper. "Should've used Polyjuice." Her only hope was that none of the Death Eaters smart enough to put two and two together got the Prophet...

_Malfoy Manor, around the same time_

_A house elf served him today's copy of the Prophet. Tom snatched it up. So far the news hadn't reached the public; why would the Ministry cover this up? _

_ In an unfortunate coincidence, Tom happened to be drinking tea (rue tea, as it happened; white, no sugar, but lots of lemon) when he spotted the photograph. As soon as he stopped coughing, he quickly siphoned the tea off the page with his wand. Thankfully, no tea had landed on the picture, and he stared at it for a few moments._

_ It was her, there could be no mistake. The brat's progeny had chosen to carry on his legacy. Although, his granddaughter might actually make for a better opponent. All he'd really been fighting was Dumbledore in the last war. Fighting a new prodigy in this one might turn out interesting. _

_ Draco Malfoy entered the room, leaning heavily on his cane, yet still managing to bow in respect to his lord. Chills went down Draco's spine when he saw the Dark Lord's cold smile beneath his hood. Someone was playing with cursed fire, and if they weren't quick enough, they would burn to death._

_By the way, I absolutely adore reviews. Ah, reviews! Anyway, that's the third chapter. I hope to finish writing the next one soon. Bye for now!_


	4. Chapter 4

_I didn't get any reviews so far! Waaaah! :( I'd really, really appreciate it if you reviewed this, whoever is reading this. I don't know what about my writing is bad or good if I don't get reviews. REVIEWS!_

_**An Explanation, Please – Or, How They Did It**_

_Number 12, Grimmauld Place, a Week and a Half Before the End of Spring Break_

"Hello, Magna," Mrs Potter greeted her daughter's friend as she tromped upstairs without delay. Odd. Usually she at least said hello. Oh, well.

Magna looked in her bedroom, and she wasn't there. _Library_. She sprinted over to the Potter's book collection, the fifth largest private wizarding library in existence. As she had predicted, Aurelia was lounging a pile of paperbacks with a hardback in hand, dressed in a gray turtleneck and black jeans. She didn't even notice when Magna came in.

The daughter of the house of Black planted her arms on her hips and said, "Well?"

Aurelia glanced over at her. "Oh, Magna, it's you." She sat up, swinging her legs down and crossing them under her. "I _know_ we bought chairs recently, but we sort of lost them in the books, so make yourself at home on the Muggle romance novels."

Magna cautiously seated herself on a stack of magazines. "How'd you do it?" she demanded. "How'd you bloody do it?"

"Do what?"

"Oh, stop pretending. How did you manage to beat You-Know-Who like that? You took them all on, alone, and you somehow got into their hideout! How the bloody hell did you do it? And how did you know where they were?"

Aurelia smiled, and took off her reading glasses, spinning them around her finger on their chain as she put a bookmark in one of her grandfather's books. "First of all, there's no real proof I'm the one who rescued them, and secondly, I hardly took them _all _on myself. That would have been suicide. I only took on about, oh," she put her hand to her mouth as she tried to remember, "ten at the most, maybe twelve."

"Yes, but You-Know-Who was among them, don't forget! I don't trust anything from the Prophet; I want to know it from you. Start from the beginning!"

Aurelia laughed, something she hadn't done in response to something a school friend said in months. "All right, all right! Let's see, how did it start?"

"When his second broadcast came on, I knew what I had to do to stop being bored. I came up with a rough sketch of a plan, as I planned to use this as an opportunity to assess him. Unfortunately, in order for it to work I had to know where his headquarters was, and I hardly had the time to search every known former Death Eater's home by myself, and he would have caught on besides.

"So I had to deduce where he was really hiding. I spent some time brainstorming, and I asked myself, 'if I were a powerful and feared Dark Lord why would I kidnap the children of the people searching for me?' The answer I came up with was this: so that I could use the search as a red herring, so they would think I really was in one of the places they were looking at while I was really somewhere else. Then I had to figure out where Voldemort would hide. In a safe place, like Gringotts? No, Dark wizards are all about secrets and the shadows. So I decided to look up places from his past." Aurelia held up a copy of the book she was reading, _Peverells and Parselmouths_, by Hermione Weasley and Harry J. Potter.

"This is a book all about him, practically a biography, in fact. And what should I find, but lo and behold, an ancient Muggle house that not even the Muggles in its village visit anymore. A place that he'd holed up in before, in one of the darkest hours of his life, and a place no one would expect he would use again, because it belonged to his father, Tom Riddle Senior. At first I was scared I was underestimating him, but my theory was proven right.

"I bought some tea cups at a local flea market the day I planned to sneak in; I told my parents I was going to visit Uncle Albus at the Leaky Cauldron for a few days. I staked out the Riddle place, and once I was satisfied that they were there, I turned the tea cups into Portkeys for later. Then I started attacking a couple of the Death Eaters.

"I'd been careful to come with two wands, mine and one of my Dad's old hand-me-downs with an aim that was off by about six feet. I Disillusioned myself and cast jinxes from behind bushes and other parts of the grounds. Pretty soon they'd brought in reinforcements. I was trying to get myself captured, but I made sure to put up a hell of the fight to make it look realistic. I was so nervous and I wasn't sure they would fall for it, but they did. I had such a hard time trying not to laugh I was sweating!

"One thing I wasn't expecting was that they would take me to see Voldemort himself, but I think I took it in stride. I even took advantage of it, but I'll explain that later. Anyway, he demanded to know how I'd figured out their location. You should've been there, Magna. I'll lay a thousand Galleons that if a Muggle psychologist knew about him, he'd be dying to analyze him." Magna snorted. If Aurelia had asked her two hundred times to come along with her on such a reckless venture she would never have agreed to it. Only Aurelia could so much as listen to that monster's voice with perfect equanimity.

"Anyway, they hadn't thought me to be dangerous enough to search me, so they didn't really see it coming when I put them all under a Somnius -"

"Hold on! All of them?"

"Yeah, all of them. A little spell I invented, like the Lumos Maximus spell but with a Somnius. They all fell asleep, even Voldemort. I Disillusioned myself again and found the place where the children were kept. I Stunned the Death Eaters guarding them, and led them back out to the front door. I told Philip Weasley where to find the tea cups, and left a little message carved on the wall for their Dark Lord. And that's it," Aurelia shrugged. "That's how I did it. It's his turn, now. I'm waiting for him to make his next move."

"But Relia, your picture's in the paper now; he might go after Bilius and Molly!"

"I know that. But I hope that he thinks of me more as a pawn at the moment than a player. So far, I've only created a small inconvenience. But if he messes with my family," Aurelia drew her wand from her pocket where it always lay, twirled it in her fingers, then raised it high, gripping it tight, "then won't be fun and games anymore. If he so much as touches one hair on the heads of Molly or Bilius, he's as good as dead."

Hidden behind several shelves, Molly Potter nervously opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Relia might be angry if she found out she'd eavesdropped, accident or no.

"You can come on out, Molly." Molly started as her sister called out to her. "You can keep a secret, right?" Molly poked her head out, smiling shyly. Aurelia took that as a yes. "Good." She slipped down from her perch. "Come on, lets go down now. Mum should be finished making the pies about now." Indeed, the alluring aroma of meat pies was already wafting upstairs, and Bill could be heard bounding down the stairs two by two. The three girls left the library, and secrets were forgotten in favor of lunch at the Potter's.

_Malfoy Manor, Around Half Past Ten PM, Same Day. Tom Riddle's Adopted Study._

_Draco Malfoy carefully entered the room, just as careful to make his presence known with a little cough. The Dark Lord made no sound of recognition. "My lord," Malfoy began,_

_ "You want to know how I managed to come back, even though you saw me die with your own eyes, Draco." It was a statement. Malfoy was startled, but regained his composure. _

_ "Yes, my lord, if you would be so kind as to -"_

_ "I shall." Making a half-smile at the look of surprise on Malfoy's face, Tom turned around. "I've only recently sorted all the details of this tale out myself, so it should bring this thought to a nice conclusion to tell it to someone. Do have a seat, Draco." Shaking, Malfoy sat on the plushy stool by the unlit fireplace, and clutched his cane as though he hoped it would shield him from harm. His weathered, tanned old face wore a look of fear, as though a monster from his childhood nightmares had turned out to be real._

_ "I suppose the story all starts when I was thirteen or so. Before I learned of Horcruxes, I was investigating various other means of living forever. I found a means of creating an artificial body; a physical copy of oneself that contains no soul, and therefore is ready for the entering when you die. All you had to do, I learned, was magically bind yourself to the body before death, and afterwards have a friend activate the spell and bring you back to life in a new body. An effective method of cheating death, don't you think? But when I found out about Horcruxes, I forgot about my pet project, and chose to focus on splitting my soul. Oh, how the follies of youth pay off in the end! You see, it happened like this..._

_Three Years Ago, London, 379 D Phaeton Lane_

Cory Dursley leaned back and paused, considering the model. He wished he could have gotten the gold foil a little smoother, but oh well. Accuracy didn't matter much about now; his project was ready and all that was left was his model of the famous _Voyager _probe (half life-size). It was almost done; all he had left to do was glue on the solar panels.

"Cory! Could you get the post?" His mother, from downstairs. She was probably busy with filing her taxes.

"Okay, Mum." Cory plodded downstairs. He was starting to think that he needed to go on a diet, or he'd end up diabetic like Grampa Dudley.

It was business letters, mostly. One to Grampa, from Great-Grandmum's social worker, two to Dad, from work and the hospital, and five to Mum (she was the money-maker in the family). A letter to Cory's brother Allen from his girlfriend in Australia. A postcard from Grandma Langdon in Costa Rica. And something else. Cory frowned. It looked like parchment or something. And it was old. Really old. And it looked like some kid, maybe around his age, had written what was on it: _To Whom It May Concern_. Odd. And there was newer writing, in an adult's pen, his own address. The stamp was new, but everything else was old. Cory turned it over in his hand, and to his surprise he found that it was sealed with wax. Strange indeed.

For whatever reason, this mysterious letter brought a wave of nostalgia to him. He remembered the stories that Grampa Dudley would tell him when he was a kid, about his cousin Harry who was a wizard. All fairy tales, of course, but Cory decided he wanted to have a look at the letter anyway. If it looked like it was for someone else, he'd give it to Mum or Dad.

After handing Mum the letters that were for her, and giving Grampa and Allen the letters for them, and putting Dad's letters on his desk, Cory tramped up eagerly to his own room. There was a reason, he was sure, though he didn't quite know what it was, that the _Voyager _should be put aside for now and the letter given his whole attention.

Cory shut the door, and broke the wax seal with care, as much care as he took when assembling a model from scratch. To his utter astonishment, several gold coins fell out when he opened it. Quickly scooping them up, he pulled out to letter to see what it said.

_**To Whomever Has Received This Message:**_

_**Should you care to follow these simple instructions, there is much more gold in store for you than the small sample provided with this letter. All you have to do is follow these instructions to the letter, unquestioning, never deviating or failing to comply, and reading them only one paragraph at a time, never any further.**_

Cory's eyes widened, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He wasn't thinking of how the gold had fit into such a thin envelope, or that the letter was so old it might have been mailed unintentionally too late, but of how dangerous the task had to be if this person, whoever they were, was offering gold instead of honest money. Surely this must be a joke? Maybe there were hidden cameras involved; a YouTube video prank or something. He read on.

_**Now, without delay, take this letter and go to 33 Haven Road, Canvey Island.**_

Cory snorted. This was definitely for prank video. Well, if it was a social experiment, it might be fun to play along. Cory put on his coat, put the letter in his pocket, and headed out the door without telling Mum where he was going. He caught the 2:40 pod, and was there in minutes. On the sidewalk, Cory took out the letter again. What, was he supposed to knock or something?

_**Standing in front of the address, go on one knee, and touch the ground with both hands, saying "Recludo." When the door opens, go through.**_

_What the hell does that mean? _Cory thought. What purpose could this serve? Cory thought of views and likes, and of being seen on YouTube, and pushed it out of his mind. Wouldn't it be fun to watch a hilarious video and say, 'hey that's me'? He got down on one knee, and, feeling a little ridiculous, pronounced clearly, "Recludo."

A section of the pavement sunk and slid away, revealing a set of stairs and a secret passage. _Well whaddaya know,_ Cory thought. For a moment, he thought of magic, but quickly dismissed the idea. Voice activated, maybe, with an opening mechanism. He looked at the letter.

_**Walk to through the passage until you come to a dead end.**_

Well, that sounded simple enough. Cory scurried down the steps, hoping nobody saw this. It was one thing to be seen doing something in a video, and a whole other to be seen by others in public. To his astonishment, the pavement slid back, and sealed the entrance so that not even the tiniest crack appeared, like it had never been opened and never been made. Someone was putting a lot of effort into this. Feeling a little claustrophobic, Cory continued on in the only direction he could. He didn't notice that the corridor was lit, but the light had no source.

Cory walked on and on, for what he figured might have been an hour and a half, maybe two hours, before he came upon the end of the tunnel. He found himself before a huge silver statue of a cobra coiled atop a green marble pedestal. Its eyes seemed to bore accusingly into him, as though he had no right to be here. Now beginning to get nervous, Cory brought out the letter again.

_**Now, stand on one leg, close your left eye, and say the words "**__**Domine non sum dignus ut intres Voldemort a rebus, sed ego sum in viam suam. Anguis in me, ut imperata faciant." After saying this, turn around and close both eyes, counting to ten, then turn around. On no account look behind you during the ten seconds, no matter what you hear. **_

_This has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever done_, Cory thought. But no one was looking. He closed his left eye and stood on his right leg, and almost didn't say it. But gold, that most desirable of metals, that princess of riches and empress of jewelry, the cold and shining glory most prized by man, flashed into his mind's eye. Whoever was doing this had chosen to risk using it to draw out people for a prank; why disappoint them? So Cory recited: "Domine non sum dignus ut intres Voldemort a rebus, sed ego sum in viam suam. Anguis in me, ut imperata facient." He then quickly turned around and started counting.

When he turned round again, the statue was missing, and in its place was huge black archway. Starting to get scared now, Cory read what came next, his hands shaking.

_**Enter the will find a stone coffin. You must place your hands upon the coffin and chant "Ad hoc, reviviscat. Hoc est enim corpus unum est tua. Renascentis, fiam, resurrecturos suscitari, fiat novus, revixisse. Animalium hoc conjunctum sit vas novum. Per patris ossa tui, et servi tui, et a carne, sanguine inimicorum ad hoc gignit. Mors, hunc dimittis, de manu vestra repugnare. Emrace suis," until the coffin begins to glow. Then step clear of the circle, and chant seven times, "Hoc corpus movetur, hoc non est homo mortuus. Natus corpus sepelitur, sed vivit semper. Exsurge, Domine."**_

Cory couldn't remember all that, so he kept the parchment out where he could see it. When he went through the archway, tentatively, as though afraid someone was there. But there was no one. Just a great slab made of black stone, presumably the coffin, sealed so that there were no cracks. Cory looked down at the parchment again. He didn't know much Latin, but he was pretty sure that not everything being said in what he was supposed to chant was very nice. But yet again the thought of all the elaborate effort put into this flashed through his mind, and so he put his worries aside. Maybe someone was making a movie and they were short of actors. And after all it was, in all probability, impossible – how could a coffin start glowing just because you were chanting? _Magic_, said a small part of his mind that was nearly always dismissed. He did not heed it. After all, there was no such thing as magic; that was just kid stuff, bedtime stories from Gramps. Cory strode confidently over to the coffin, yearning for Internet fame driving him onward even though he thought (or so he believed) that nothing would happen. Nothing at all.

He put the letter on the coffin between his hands, so he could read it. Cory had never been good at memorizing things, especially in other languages. Cory took a deep breath, and began, wondering if he was even pronouncing it right. "Ad hoc, reviviscat. Hoc est enim corpus unum est tua. Renascentis, fiam, resurrecturos suscitari, fiat novus, revixisse. Animalium hoc conjunctum sit vas..." He kept chanting, on and on and on and on, till he felt he'd repeated it nearly a hundred times, and then -

A thin break appeared in the slab all around it, where the edge of the lid should have been. A blinding white light shone out of it. Cory hastily took the parchment and skipped clear of the line in the ground. He didn't stop to wonder, didn't stop to be frightened, didn't even stop to think. He just started chanting, barely knowing why.

"Hoc corpus movetur, hoc non est homo mortuus. Natus corpus sepelitur, sed vivit semper. Exsurge, Domine. Hoc corpus movetur, hoc non est homo mortuus. Natus corpus sepelitur, sed vivit semper. Exsurge, Domine." The coffin lid began to rise in the air, and the light shone brighter still.

"Hoc corpus movetur, hoc non est homo mortuus. Natus corpus sepelitur, sed vivit semper. Exsurge, Domine. Hoc corpus movetur, hoc non est homo mortuus. Natus corpus sepelitur, sed vivit semper. Exsurge, Domine. Hoc corpus movetur, hoc non est homo mortuus. Natus corpus sepelitur, sed vivit semper. Exsurge, Domine." Barely fighting a sudden urge to escape and run, Cory turned and saw with dismay that the archway had disappeared, and there was no exit. Without even knowing he was doing it, he kept chanting.

"Hoc corpus movetur, hoc non est homo mortuus. Natus corpus sepelitur, sed vivit semper. Exsurge, Domine!" He was saying it desperately now, like a prayer of hope that this would all be worth it, that it was really nothing, that it would turn out just fine. After all, it was harmless. Just a prank. An elaborate prank, that was all. Right?

"Hoc corpus movetur," The coffin lid rose to the ceiling.

"Hoc non est homo mortuus." The lid vanished.

"Natus corpus sepelitur," The white light grew brighter.

"Sed vivit semper." And brighter still.

"Exsurge, Domine!" A hand reached out of the coffin, a man's hand whose skin looked like that of a newborn baby's, holding a stick of pale wood. Cory gave a panicked shriek. He hurriedly checked the letter, to see if it said anything else, anything that might comfort him that this was supposed to happen. Wasn't there anything else?

All the text on the page had vanished. In its place had appeared:

_**Happy Death Day, mudblood. Bye!**_

The very last sound that Cory Dursley ever heard was his own scream of terror, and the very last sight he ever saw was a flash of green sprouting like a deadly vine from the end of the Dark Lord's wand.

_Present Day, Malfoy Manor_

_ "You see, I had already set myself up to come back to life, and then, like the child I was, forgotten all about it. I left the letter with a future follower, who never questioned my orders, and he was to mail it to someone he knew was a muggleborn wizard after my death. And see how it has paid off; I am alive, whole, and young again. I am not as strong as I was at the time of my death, but that will return in time. I'm simply surprised that the soul bond was still in effect after my having split my soul; each part of it seems to have retained its bond to this body, and they are slowly mixing until they become whole again."_

_ Malfoy bit his mustached lip. "Permission to speak, my lord?"_

_ "Granted."_

_ "How is it that the mudblood did not suspect something right away? Even if he was a child, he would still attend Hogwarts."_

_ Tom's chilling laugh swept through the room. "You do not see. The magic the Ministry and Hogwarts use to sweep Britain for muggleborns is not perfect. They are able to detect around seventy percent, at most, of the actual mudbloods born every year. The extra thirty percent are never noticed."_

_ Malfoy nodded distractedly, gray braid bobbing with the motion of his head. "I see, my lord." Silence took root in the room for several minutes. _

_ "You may go, Draco." The head of the house of Malfoy gratefully left._

_Same Location, Midnight_

_ Demetria Siddons cautiously knocked on the door. She carried a velvet bundle in her arms, which she held carefully, as though she carried something made of butterfly wings. "Enter," a frigid voice replied, and she opened the door. _

_ Tom greeted her without turning. "Ah, Demetria. Results?" He stood outlined against the roaring fireplace, hood lowered and hands behind his back. Demetria carefully placed the bundle on his desk._

_ "Yes, my lord. I have gathered them all together, all except for one piece. I was not able to find it, as getting near it might have caused suspicion."_

_ "And what part was that?" Tom turned around, swiftly moving to face his follower across the desk. Demetria unfolded the bundle, revealing thin white bones and a skin mummified by time and dry stone. She could have sworn she heard a sharp intake of breath from her lord, but she dismissed the very idea. She arranged the remains carefully, to make them more recognizable._

_ "I was unable to retrieve the head, my lord. Longbottom has it; he keeps it stuffed as a trophy." All six feet of a great snake was laid out on the desk, ribs, vertebrae, pieces of scale and hide. There was no skull, however, making it a headless corpse. _

_ The Dark Lord was quiet for a moment, then he said, "Leave me." Demetria made a small bow, and left. Tom stayed, alone and folorn with the incomplete bones of his one and only friend._


End file.
